


The Bet

by LittlebutFiery



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Kinda?, Post-Promised Day, Team Mustang shenanigans, crackfic, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:50:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlebutFiery/pseuds/LittlebutFiery
Summary: The boys of Team Mustang make a bet on how their fearless leader will propose to Hawkeye. It quickly turns to subterfuge and sabotage.





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE Team Mustang so much. Writing this (the first FMA fic I had the idea for) has been a joy. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

“I’m tellin’ you, it can’t be more than a couple more weeks till the ol’ General proposes to the Major!” Havoc insisted to the rest of his compatriots.

“Give it a break, Havoc,” Breda waved him off. “They’re just going to do this pretend-to-not-be-dating thing until we all die.”

“I _did_ overhear him say something about going shopping when he was on the phone with Madam Christmas,” Fuery put in.

The other three turned to stare at Fuery. Falman asked, “Wait, you were eavesdropping on him?”

“Force of habit!” Fuery protested. “It’s a communications thing!”

“Going shopping, huh?” Havoc mused aloud. “That’s gotta be for one thing. An engagement ring.”

“And I say you’re full of shit,” Breda shook his head.

“Willing to put your money where your mouth is?” Havoc challenged.

The four men all regarded each other a moment before Havoc went on, “Five thousand cens that he’s gonna propose.”

None of them were willing to take the bet, so the exasperated soldier took a drag from his cigarette and went on, “Not willing to bet against that? Fine. Let’s raise the stakes. I say he’s going to try to actually be romantic for once, and propose while they’re out at dinner. Or something like that.”

This drew a chuckle from his best friend. Breda said, “I see your five thousand, and I’ll match it. Except I clearly know the boss better than you. He’s gonna propose here in the office.”

“No fair! They’re always here!” Havoc growled.

“Well, _I_ think it’s going to be on a trip of some kind,” Fuery said. The others turned to look at him, intrigued. “Military or vacation. But it won’t be here in Central.”

“You really think the Chief is gonna propose in public?” Falman asked. “It’ll be at home. Remember? They live together now.”

“How the hell are we gonna know if you win, then?” Breda demanded. “We can’t stake out their apartment for that long.”

Havoc turned to Fuery with a shit-eating grin. “Fuery, say I misfile some paperwork and some listening devices go missing. Think you could set us up?”

“You want me to bug the General and the Major’s apartment?” Fuery asked, eyes wide.

The other three men nodded as one, so his face turned resolute and he vowed, “I’ll do it!”

They all shook on the bet and returned to their desks right before Hawkeye and Mustang walked in, their lunch leftovers in their hands.

“Major, did we die and go to hell somewhere along the way back? The boys are actually working!” Mustang laughed, walking back to his desk.

“I’m impressed,” Hawkeye commented, setting her leftovers down and looking over Havoc’s and Falman’s shoulders. “Good thinking on the Ishval intelligence, Falman. And what’s this? Havoc, willingly working on some inventory paperwork? Be still my beating heart.”

Havoc grinned at Hawkeye, giving her a thumbs up. “Anything for our fearless leaders, ma’am.”

Mustang narrowed his eyes. “You boys are up to something. I can smell it.”

“Nah, that’s just Havoc’s cigarettes,” Fuery deflected the suspicion with a skill that surprised his friends. “His last girlfriend dumped him so he can’t get those fancy Xingese ones from her store anymore.”

“I dumped _her_ , you idiot!” Havoc snapped back.

As the four men dissolved into bickering and good-natured ribbing, Hawkeye walked over to Mustang’s desk, assuming her normal post at his side.

With his feet up on his desk, hands in his pockets, Roy Mustang looked the very image of lazy ease as he chuckled at his squabbling subordinates. What that picture failed to show, though, was the way he turned the little velvet box over and over again in his pocket, fidgeting with it as though that would ease the nerves it gave him.

 

“Okay, the Chief and the Major are out taking Black Hayate on a walk,” Falman told the other three, who were gathered with him in the alleyway behind the couple’s shared apartment. “The path they take every evening takes precisely twenty-seven minutes.”

“When did they leave?” Breda asked.

“Two minutes ago,” Falman replied.

“So we’ve got twenty-five minutes to get in, hide the bugs, and get out,” Havoc said. “Well, more precisely _Fuery_ has twenty-five minutes.”

“How many bugs did you get?” Fuery asked.

Havoc held up a bag full of listening devices with a slightly evil grin. “All I had to do was charm one of the secretaries in requisitions into losing my paperwork after I got these puppies.”

“We’re lucky we have any, then,” Breda said.

Fuery took the bag from Havoc’s hands as the taller soldier began to argue with his friend. The young officer took a deep breath, steeled himself, and said, “Okay, wish me luck.”

“Good luck, soldier,” Falman said, saluting the junior officer.

“If anything goes wrong, we’ll be back here. Just jump out the window and we’ll catch you,” Breda assured him with a clap on the shoulder.

It didn’t seem to reassure Fuery very much.

“Twenty-five minutes. Right,” Fuery said. “I can do this.”

Twenty-four and a half minutes later, Havoc peeked around the corner and immediately hissed, “Oh, shit!”

“What’s wrong?” Falman demanded.

 “They’re back!” Havoc exclaimed. He called up to the open third-story window, “Hey, Fuery, hurry up!”

No answer.

Just as Hawkeye’s key turned in the lock, Fuery came bolting down the fire escape, barely remembering to slam the window shut behind him. He whispered, “They’re back, come on! We need to get out of here!”

The four hightailed it to the nearby street, where they’d stashed their getaway car.

Hawkeye frowned as she walked back into the apartment, letting Black Hayate off his leash. “Sir?”

“Riza, how many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Roy, we’re alone…” Mustang began his oft-spoken yet gentle reprimand.

“Did we leave the lights on when we left?” Hawkeye asked.

“I think so. Why?” Mustang replied, hanging up his coat.

“Hm. Never mind,” Hawkeye replied, turning off their bedroom light and heading back into the kitchen. “Paranoia left over from the fight against the Homunculi.”

 

“Goddamn fuckin’ hell, that was too close,” Havoc said, not for the first time, into his cup of coffee the following morning. “I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t want my ass burned until it hurts to sit.”

“Yeah, but it’s working. Listen!” Fuery exclaimed, tinkering with the receiver device he’d hidden in his locker.

_‘I still think the boys are up to something,_ ’ Mustang’s voice crackled through the receiver.

‘ _Enough about them,_ ’ Hawkeye’s voice replied. ‘ _We have a letter from Fullmetal. Apparently he and Winry are engaged._ ’

‘ _Hm,_ ’ Mustang replied simply. There was a long pause before he continued, ‘ _Speaking of that, I wanted to ask you something, Riza._ ’

‘ _Speaking of what?_ ’ Hawkeye asked. ‘ _Engagements, or Fullmetal?_ ’

“No, no, no, no, no!” Havoc exclaimed, running from the room. As he vanished, his compatriots could faintly hear, “I am _not_ losing another damn bet!”

‘ _You really think I want to talk about Fullmetal?_ ’ Roy laughed. ‘ _Riza, I…_ ’

_RING RING RING_

‘ _What the?_ ’ Mustang asked. He sighed. ‘ _Damn phone_. _Hello? Yes, this is Mustang. Havoc? I thought I told you not to call on my day off!_ ’

“That bastard!” Falman grumbled.

‘ _Urgent? What could possibly be_ that _urgent?_ ’ Mustang’s voice was growing more and more agitated. ‘ _For the love of God, I don’t_ care _that I broke your lighter! Walk down to the general store and buy a new one! No, I’m not driving down to the office to give you a light. Good_ day _, soldier!’_

Fuery and Breda snickered as the sound of Mustang forcibly hanging up the phone was audible. Havoc came running back into the room, breathless, another of his trademark shit-eating grins on his face. “Well? What did I miss?”

“Falman’s impending boot up your ass, probably,” Breda said. “That was low, Havoc.”

“Yeah, well, sue me,” Havoc waved him off. The four turned back to the receiver in breathless anticipation.

‘ _…anyway, you wanted to ask me something?_ ’ Hawkeye prompted, after Mustang’s string of grumbled curses subsided.

‘ _Never mind. Forgot what it was,_ ’ Mustang sighed. Judging by his tone, he clearly _hadn’t_ forgotten anything.

“You’re in for it tomorrow,” Fuery warned Havoc.

“Twenty thousand cens will go a long way towards my impending medical bills, if he’s still mad,” Havoc grinned.

He pulled a distinctly not-broken lighter from his pocket to light a cigarette.

 

Havoc quickly paid his fair share in karmic justice the next morning, when Mustang not only ripped him a new one – “Just because I know Flame Alchemy does _not_ mean I’m your personal lighter, you useless walking ashtray!” – but assigned him a particularly boring surveillance mission and tasked him to scrub the office floors to boot.

As soon as a grumbling Havoc left the room, Hawkeye stuck her hand in her pocket, and everything got worse.

She made an odd face as she did so, before pulling her hand back out – she was holding something small. What little color existed in Fuery’s face drained from it as he realized she was holding one of the bugs he’d placed in the apartment.

“What’s this?” Hawkeye asked, before her eyes narrowed. “A bug.”

Mustang’s eyes snapped instantly to Fuery, who looked about ready to pee his pants in fear. He stammered, “Uh…”

“Sorry, Chief,” Breda shrugged, drawing four pairs of eyes to him. “What can I say, I’m a sucker for a dare.”

“You’re _what?_ ” Mustang demanded. Color slowly returned to Fuery’s face.

“Havoc and I had a bet about whether you two still do the weird formal ‘sir’ and ‘major’ thing at home, and there was only one way to solve that, so, I, uh…” Breda lied easily.

Mustang rubbed his temples. “So you commandeered military equipment and bugged Major Hawkeye?”

“That sums it up, yeah,” Breda agreed. He added quickly, “I’m going to go help Havoc scrub the floors now,” before all but running from the room.

“Anything the two of you would like to confess?” Mustang demanded of Falman and Fuery.

“No sir!” both practically shouted, saluting.

Mustang narrowed his eyes, not buying it. “Go help the idiots clean the floors.”

“Sir!” Falman and Fuery said, saluting again and running off.

Havoc was dutifully scrubbing at the floor in the atrium, albeit cursing and pouting while he did so. Breda, meanwhile, was sitting at a nearby table, fiddling with Fuery’s receiver.

“You guys come to ‘help’ too?” Havoc scowled, shooting a glare at Breda.

“Supposedly,” Falman replied.

“Got it!” Breda crowed triumphantly, his ear next to the receiver’s speaker.

“ _I can’t believe that I’ve been promoted to general and I’m still stuck with the biggest morons in the army,_ ” Mustang was scowling.

“Asshole,” Havoc grumbled through his ashy cigarette.

“How many bugs did you put on them, Fuery?” Falman asked, surprised. The younger officer simply offered an innocent shrug.

“ _You wouldn’t have anyone else, sir,_ ” Hawkeye said patiently. “ _The Fuhrer tried to give you a new team, remember? You wouldn’t hear anything of it._ ”

“Hey, he _does_ like us!” Fuery’s face lit up like a child’s on Christmas.

“ _Don’t tell them that,_ ” Mustang chuckled. “ _It’ll go to their heads._ ”

“ _We can’t have that, sir,_ ” Hawkeye replied, though she sounded amused. She paused for a moment before asking, “ _Did you remember what you were going to ask me last night before Havoc called?_ ”

“ _Actually, yes,_ ” Mustang said.

Fuery, Falman, and Havoc looked at each other in horror, while Breda’s face split into a cocksure grin.

“ _Oh, good. I’ve been curious_ ,” Hawkeye said.

Falman’s face quickly morphed from fear to grim and desperate resolution, before walking over to Havoc and kicking the taller officer as hard as he could in the knee.

Havoc let out a wounded howl of, “What the actual _fuck_ , Falman?”

The quiet officer was gone, though, running back towards Mustang’s office with a shout of, “Sir!”

Through the receiver, the sound of the office door banging open was clearly audible. Mustang snarled, “ _It better damn well be urgent, Falman!_ ”

“ _Havoc slipped on the wet floor! I think he dislocated his knee!_ ” Falman reported.

Havoc was still groaning in pain, clutching his badly injured knee and swearing profusely, as Mustang yelled, “ _What, precisely, do you want me to do about it? Kiss it and make it all better?_ ”

Despite his clear annoyance at his victory being interrupted, Breda let out a loud snort of laughter.

“ _Take him to the infirmary_ ,” Hawkeye said, the very image of calm patience. “ _Our alkahestry friend Miss Chang is in town on her way to visit the Elrics. I’ll call her and have her come patch up Havoc. Use more caution in the future._ ”

“ _Ma’am!_ ” Falman agreed.

He came back to join the others, where Breda grumbled, “That was a dirty trick, Falman.”

“No dirtier than what you guys did to me!” Falman protested.

“I get I was kind of a dick, but that doesn’t mean you need to break my fucking knee!” Havoc complained, still clutching his injury.

“Quit whining,” Breda waved him off. “Let’s get your sorry ass down to the infirmary so they can fix you up.”

 

May was only able to do so much for Havoc’s broken kneecap, leaving him on crutches and particularly pissed at Falman. If Mustang and Hawkeye noticed the frequency with which Havoc tripped up Falman with his crutches, they were oddly quiet about it. For their parts, Breda and Fuery found it entertaining.

“Lieutenant Gimpy,” Mustang called as Havoc sat down to get the morning’s work done. The other three men snickered.

“Sir,” Havoc sighed.

“Starting Monday, you’re in charge,” Mustang said.

“You sure you want that, Chief?” Breda asked. “His last name’s Havoc for a reason.”

Havoc threw a wadded-up ball of paper at his best friend. Mustang replied, “Unfortunately, yes. Major Hawkeye and I are being called to Ishval for a groundbreaking ceremony on the new Temple of Ishvalla. Fuhrer’s orders. Havoc is the next in the chain of command.”

“Won’t let you down, boss,” Havoc nodded.

“Are you sure the two of you will be safe?” Falman asked, noting the way Fuery had lit up at Mustang’s announcement.

“I appreciate your concern, but it’s unnecessary,” Mustang chuckled. “Between me and Hawkeye, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“…the Fuhrer’s granddaughter and the next in line to the throne don’t need any extra protection. Right,” Breda drawled. “If you think you’re going without one of us coming with you, you’re wrong. Respectfully. Sir.”

Mustang sighed, but Hawkeye commented, “He has a point, sir.”

“Fine. Breda, pack your bags. Havoc, call the barracks in Ishval and tell them we’ll need an additional room,” Mustang reluctantly agreed.

He left the room, heading to a meeting with Hawkeye carefully in tow, while Breda put his feet up on his desk. Fuery looked remarkably defeated, sighing quietly into his coffee while he returned to work.

“You’re not going to call, are you?” Fuery asked.

“Nope,” Havoc grinned. He paused. “Actually, scratch that. I am. But the three of ‘em will all be stuck in one room…just to ensure our fearless leaders don’t get up to any shenanigans while Breda’s asleep.”

“That means I’m going to be sleeping on the floor,” Breda complained.

“You wanna get your five thousand cens back, or not?” Havoc pressed.

“Fine,” Breda grumbled.

 

Breda expertly pretended to doze on the train to Ishval – the product of years of living with Havoc and pretending not to hear the outrageously loud sex he had. He’d never expected that particular skill to come in handy, but here he was, carefully monitoring Hawkeye and Mustang’s conversation for any hint he needed to “wake up” and interrupt it.

Their conversation was surprisingly bland, jumping back and forth between work and the anticipated weather during their stay in Ishval. Breda had the feeling they were talking in the code he knew they had to have after all these years, but he didn’t care. Mustang wasn’t going to propose in code.

It was when they _stopped_ talking in code that he’d need to get worried.

Hawkeye gently “woke” him when the train stopped in Ishval. He grabbed their bags while Mustang went on ahead to get the keys to their rooms in the barracks.

Well, singular room. But Mustang didn’t know that yet. Breda was thankful he was trailing behind with the luggage, because he didn’t want to be close to an angry man who could create fireballs by sneezing, not when said man found out that the three of them would be crammed in one small apartment.

When he finally entered the barracks, the scene was unfolding exactly as he’d expected – Mustang berating a tearful desk sergeant while Hawkeye quietly calmed him down.

“I said _two rooms. Two!_ How the hell does that sound like _one_ to you, sergeant?” Mustang seethed.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but there must have been a mix-up. And with everyone arriving for the ceremony, we don’t have anywhere else we can put you,” the sergeant said nervously, brushing tears from his eyes.

“I am a _major general_ and you expect me to crash on a couch?” Mustang yelled.

“Sir, I can sleep on the couch. It’ll be fine,” Hawkeye soothed. She turned to the sergeant. “Just show us to the room, please.”

That night, Breda didn’t even have to pretend to be asleep. After a long argument between Hawkeye and Mustang over who would take which sleeping spot – while he remained forgotten – Mustang slept on the couch, with Hawkeye in the flimsy bed.

Breda, as expected, was on the floor by the couch. He didn’t mind – he’d slept in less comfortable positions, and if it meant not having to pay Fuery his share of the bet, he’d do it.

Based on Mustang’s angry muttering until he fell asleep, his plans had certainly been foiled. Even his breathing, once he fell asleep, had been fast and annoyed.

Breda chuckled before settling into a deep sleep.

 

“He’s gettin’ pissed,” Breda reported to the others when the trio returned from Ishval. “I thought he was going to incinerate somebody the whole time we were there.”

“Well, pretty soon this’ll all be over,” Havoc said cockily, lighting his fourth cigarette of the morning. “I’m the only one left in the running, after all. And Rebecca told me that our fearless leaders have a date tonight.”

“What?” Falman demanded.

“It’s undercover work for a mission, but y’know, details,” Havoc waved a lazy hand. “It’s close enough. Once they get their intel, he’ll propose, I’ll be a rich man, and you guys can kiss my ass for calling me an idiot for predicting this.”

With this, he hobbled out of the room to go get more coffee.

“We can’t let him win!” Fuery insisted quietly. “I can’t afford to lose that much money!”

“Then why’d you bet in the first place?” Falman asked.

“Both of you, quiet,” Breda said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “We have to plan this while Havoc’s gone.”

“Right,” Fuery and Falman nodded.

“I’ll find out where they’re going to stake out tonight. Fuery, offer to watch Black Hayate for Hawkeye,” Breda said.

“What’s Hayate got to do with anything?” Fuery asked.

“We all know he’s not well-behaved when he’s not with Hawkeye,” Falman realized. “If you bring him by the restaurant, he’ll go crazy.”

“Bonus points if he jumps on Hawkeye or the chief and ruins what they’re wearing,” Breda nodded.

Fuery hesitated before nodding vigorously. “I won’t let you guys down! My money’s at stake too!”

 

“The weather is so nice tonight, isn’t it, Elizabeth?” Mustang asked, halfway through a very-carefully rationed glass of scotch. “I could get used to spring nights like this.”

“It is,” Hawkeye said in her girlish Elizabeth voice. “It’s hardly cold enough to warrant a coat.”

“Which is all for the best, because you look ravishing tonight without one,” Mustang replied with a grin.

He was about to go on when Hawkeye’s eyes flicked to their mark. She said coolly, taking a sip of her wine, “So I’ve heard that the crops are good in the east this year.”

Mustang looked at the reflection in his glass – their mark was indeed moving to the east, heading towards a shady-looking man at the bar. He replied, “So they’re saying. Have you heard anything else?”

“Just that the exchange rates with Xingese currency aren’t good now,” Hawkeye went on.

Mustang nodded. An exchange had just been made.

This carried on for a while until their mark finally left. Hawkeye got up to follow, but Mustang put a gentle hand on hers. “I think we can stay and enjoy our meal. There’s always tomorrow. Besides, I still have that question to ask you.”

He was about to open his mouth and say something else when a deafening _WOOF_ was audible before something large and heavy hit him square in the chest, knocking him and his chair to the ground.

“What the hell?” Mustang yelled, startled.

“Hayate?” Hawkeye demanded, recognizing the dog. “You’re supposed to be with Fuery!”

“Sorry!” a familiar voice called.

Fuery ran up, breathless. “I was taking him for a walk when he got out of his leash. I’m so sorry for ruining your date…”

“It’s not a date!” Hawkeye scowled, blushing.

“Get this dog off of me!” Mustang yelled.

Fuery ran over, putting the conveniently easy-to-unclip leash back on Hayate. He saluted and said, “Sorry about this! I’ll get him home immediately!”

Hawkeye helped Mustang up as Fuery ran off with the dog. “Are you all right, sir?”

“Just fine,” Mustang sighed.

He was getting really damn tired of having his attempts at proposing to Riza Hawkeye ruined by his incompetent underlings.

 

The next morning, the boys were all at work well before Hawkeye and Mustang showed up, and they were all in sour moods – Havoc in particular. He grumbled, “Well, great. Now who wins the bet?”

“Nobody, I guess,” Falman shrugged.

“I hate you guys,” Havoc scowled.

“You sabotaged Falman’s bet first!” Breda snapped.

They quickly dissolved into squabbling that lasted until Hawkeye and Mustang arrived. Mustang ignored them, clearly in a sour mood himself, though Hawkeye was the picture of composed ease, as always.

Mustang sat down heavily in his desk chair, looking with a mixture of dread and anger at the pile of paperwork on his desk. He finally snapped, “Shut up and get some work done, idiots.”

“Sir!” the four men agreed, turning to their work.

“Sir, I have something I’d like to discuss with you before I go get those papers from Rebecca,” Hawkeye said.

“Go for it,” Mustang nodded.

“I think I know what you were going to ask me, every time we got interrupted. So I’m going to ask you, sir. Do you want to get married?” Hawkeye said.

Havoc spit out his coffee so violently he doused Fuery across the table, while Breda and Falman stared at their commanders in shock.

Mustang did a good impression of a man having a stroke. “I’m sorry, Major, I don’t think I heard you correctly. And I don’t think the boys need to be here.”

“They’ve had us bugged for weeks, sir, they’ll hear it whether or not they’re in the room,” Hawkeye replied. “Fuhrer Grumman fully intends on repealing the anti-fraternization laws. I see no reason to hide our relationship any longer. Do you want to marry me, sir?”

“I…of course,” Mustang nodded, gaping like a fish out of water.

Hawkeye smiled, pressing a small, chaste kiss to his lips. “Good.”

She turned to the men still staring, flabbergasted, at her and her new fiancé. “Boys, I’ll take that bet money now.”

“What bet?” Breda lied weakly.

“You know what bet,” Hawkeye replied with a smile. “The one I overheard you all make when the General and I were coming back from lunch.”

“Fuck,” Havoc swore, cigarette drooping from his lips. “The Hawk’s Eyes, the Hawk’s Ears…any other animal senses you want to tell us about?”

Hawkeye laughed, a bright clarion sound. “Just tenacity. The money, gentlemen.”

As they fished out their wallets and prayed they had the money to cover their bet, the four men of Team Mustang all wondered why they hadn’t just put their money on Riza Hawkeye in the first place.


End file.
